Drive Me Crazy
by louise4
Summary: Harry is more honest than is usual, and Draco knows more than he should - it is bound to lead to some unexpected consequences. Sometimes you tell the truth without meaning to. And sometimes you tell the truth because you never expect to be found out...H


**DISCALIMER**: I own nothing. Damn it.

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**: The song here is 'Drive Me Crazy' as sung by Britney Spears and written by…someone. But the point is, it is clearly _not_ mine.

Comments in () are actions – a la Dead Ringers doing Tony Blair (sod the lot of you hand gesture, angry bald spot)

Comments in - - are asides from the character whose point of view we are currently in

This is just a bit of fun, any implausibility (i.e. Pirates of the Caribbean - well they're magic, maybe they got it early – makes you wanna be magic, don't it!) isn't meant to be worried over.

**Drive Me Crazy**

He just wasn't thinking, that would be his excuse afterwards, he just wasn't thinking. Hermione had told him enough times that sometimes, blinding honesty wasn't the way to go, and he'd tried to listen. He hadn't told Snape exactly why he always sat at the back - 'the smell, sir' - and he had refrained from telling Lavendar exactly how she really looked in that dress - 'look what's washed up on the shore, boys. The settlement's saved - and he'd avoided telling Dumbledore exactly where he could shove his lemon sherberts - fill in the gap! - but sometimes he was caught off guard. This was just one of those times.

And anyway, Draco Malfoy had no business having any knowledge of muggle pop culture.

If you think about it, it was all his fault really.

It was a moment of madness, a slight slip, Draco Malfoy would explain later. He hadn't meant to say anything at all. Actually, he'd been working on his dignified silences over the last year, ever since Pansy started dating - ye Gods – Dean Thomas. A (look over the shoulder, duck instinctively) mudblood!

Scandal in the world of Slytherin.

Only it wasn't, because Pansy had enough on him to force his silence, and where he led, well, you know the rest.

So muggle culture was seeping into the dungeons everso, neverso slowly. Just the small things - books, music, films. And the worst thing was he kind of liked them.

It was the 'chick-flics' as Pansy called them as the girls settled down on a Saturday night to watch some film which usually featured a floppy haired British guy and/or a ditsy American girl of variable hair colour.

They were, he decided, evil. They had to be or he wouldn't find himself standing in the doorway watching only to be reluctantly urged onto the couch sitting in the middle of Slytherin girls in their pjamas and any boyfriends that may have been bullied into attendance.

And he found himself captivated by the lifestyle they depicted, could easily understand the charm of watching a life they never had any chance of reaching having been forced to grow up far too soon. It was like you were being allowed a glimpse into what you had missed but, instead of feeling resentment, it left you with a warm fussy feeling. Except when they had watched Titanic - big boat of foolish muggle design, it was _obviously_ going to sink as soon as they called it unsinkable - and Moulin Rouge - he liked the elephant bit - when he'd have at least two of them crying on his shoulder, yet they still claimed to enjoy the experience.

They'd been watching one of the 'happy ending' films That night and when it had finished he'd had to go out for a final check before official 'lights out'. He'd liked the film they'd watched, it seemed more real somehow, a world where best friends stabbed you in the back, and you just wanted The Guy for the prom - some sort of dance, he gathered - because he looked right and there was someone else for the love of your life.

Anyway, it had left him with a smile on his face and a light feeling in his heart - yes, he did have one, thank you very much - so rounds didn't seem so bad.

Until he ran into Potter.

"Malfoy," the same distant, half cordial air that he'd been using since Dean fell.

"Potter," never had been as cordial, never would be, so there!

"Rounds?"

"Obviously," he drawled. "And your excuse would be...?"

"Non existent," Harry grinned at him.

"Is that meant to be funny Potter?"

"I was going for endearingly eccentric. Maybe the last battle unhinged me?"

"Or maybe you were dropped on your head as a child. That is what the scar is for, isn't it?"

"Oh no, that has a far more dramatic tale behind it," he smiled and Draco remembered he didn't want to be talking to Potter anyway.

"Yes, and we all have to hear it a zillion times, don't we?" Was that something from one of the films? Father would be scandalised. Oh well.

"Not really," he scowled, the mood - there was **no** mood - broken.

"Obviously your little fan club didn't get that memo," he sneered - now that **was** from a film, he was almost certain.

"Oh for Gods sake Malfoy," he groaned, "you drive me crazy you know?"

"Good," he should have left it, turned, left. But no. "What sort of crazy."

"Britney crazy," he replied.

Draco looked at him, the comment slowly registering.

And it showed, if the way Potter turned tail was anything to go by.

"What sort of crazy." Malfoy had asked. It was easy. Don't answer. Just leave, be above it all.

"Britney crazy," he replied - it's ok, he won't get it, you're ok.

Slowly the comment registered - FUCK!

Fucking, wanker, bollocking, bloody hell fire.

Shit.

RUN!

Britney crazy.

As in...?

No, that's just silly.

Unless it isn't.

Right, stop, you're a Malfoy, let's at least try and be rational here. Maybe it's a French thing. You're part French, maybe your mother knows of some inherent French insanity.

Or we have reality.

No.

Yes.

No - but imagine if it was...

Yes (evil grin turns into something different). Because if it was Britney crazy then that would mean...and I'm actually ok with that...

NO!

It's that film, it has to be. Happy Americans are corrupting me, that's all. I in no way want Potter to come down bleachers singing to me - and what are bleachers, really? - and I definitely don't want him to place bets on bedding me or turning me into Prom Queen - and I refuse to snicker at that (snickered anyway) damn it.

The relative peace of the Gryffindor common room was shattered when Harry Potter burst through the portrait hole and threw himself on the mercy of his fellow seventh years.

"I think," he announced, "I just told Malfoy I fancy him. Oh, Jonny Depp."

"Harry…Harry," Hermione had to call twice and then first pause, then stop the DVD to regain her friend's attention. "Explain."

"Well, I was trying to think first, honestly, but I just _couldn't_ not answer. And it's all his fault, if you think about it, it _shouldn't_ have meant anything to him."

"What did you SAY," Lavendar interrupted the irritating protestations.

"I said he drove me crazy."

"That's not so bad, could be bad-crazy, usually is," Parvati soothed.

"Then he asked what _sort_ of crazy. I tried not to answer, honest I did."

"What did you say Harry?"

"Britney crazy."

They looked at each other.

"Congratulations," they all chorused, "you finally told him."

"Bugger."

"If you're lucky," Seamus grinned.

"Shut up."

Slight crisis over, they returned to the film, interrupted every so often by further swearing from Harry.

You are probably wondering why the Gryffindor's took Harry's announcement so calmly but it is elementary my dear Watson. You see, not only had the Gryffindor's known of this…preference for Draco that the Golden Boy had, they had been forced to take it upon themselves to tell him about.

Harry had actually handled the loss of Sirius rather well, all things considered. Later, they learnt that it was his Aunt who had actually helped him cope, finally standing up to her husband and allowing herself to accept Harry.

He hadn't expected things to change after the members of the Order had, well, threatened his family, and at first not much did change.

He had been out in the garden, trying desperately to prevent himself from thinking, working all day everyday so he fell into an exhausted sleep every night. About two weeks into the holiday Petunia had come outside for something, had happened to speak to Harry who had turned, lifting his face up to answer her.

Distracted from everything else she had looked at him sadly.

"Lily eyes shouldn't look so sad," she'd said, more to herself than to him, but it had broken the ice. Over the weeks they had finally begun to talk, Petunia working through her anger at the boy who had lived while her beloved sister died, lived, more over, in the image of the man who turned her sister against her. Harry in turn was able to provide more of a reason behind Lily's sudden hatred of her sister, turning against her and cutting her out of her life. Slowly they began to understand each other. It was not an instantaneous thing, and there was still distrust on both sides, but there was also common ground.

Dudley and Vernon did _not_ develop a sudden fondness for Harry, but they continued in the toleration borne out of fear that had coloured the first few weeks of the holiday.

Anyway, getting back on track, Harry returned for his sixth year a lot more normal than anyone had dared to expect. He also took Dean Thomas's relationship with Pansy Parkinson a lot better than anyone else, actually encouraging his friend to follow his heart, his trust being more than repaid when, in the final battle, the majority of the Slytherins had shown themselves as siding with Dumbledore, while there were numerous unexpected defections from Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and even one Gryffindor as they came out as siding with Voldemort.

It was amidst all the chaos of their sixth year that Harry, upon the introduction of a television into the Gryffindor common room – by Hermione of all people – had intentionally come out and inadvertently expressed views which led more than one person to believe he held a slight torch for Draco Malfoy.

It had quickly become apparent that Hermione was using the television as a way to stay sane within her ridiculous timetable, the amount of NEWTS she was taking being equalled only by Draco Malfoy, the two actually following a virtually identical timetable. As such, Buffy the Vampire Slayer was getting something of a cult following within Gryffindor, much to the mystification of some, who just didn't understand the appeal.

"It's Willow," Dean had explained to a mystified Ron.

"Actually, that would be Faith," Colin grinned.

"But we know that it's false, we've seen Vampires and Werewolves and this is just…wrong."

"But the girls are hot," Dean insisted. "Tell him, Harry."

"Sorry, I'm a Spike fan myself," he smiled as a scowling Hermione handed Ginny two galleons. At the blank looks from almost everyone he just grinned, "Gay!"

"Oh. OK."

And that was the spectacular event of Harry Potter's outing himself.

"So Harry," Hermione asked oh so innocently when the show had finished, "you would go for Spike over Angel then?"

"Totally," he grinned at her, "you disagree?"

"Well no, but he's become kind of naff lately, don't you think?"

"In a way, I mean the second season, evil, sarcastic Spike was the best. Very sexy," as he drifted off into a world populated by semi-clothed Spike's Ginny returned Hermione's galleons, frowning.

"So does he _remind_ you of anyone?"

"Huh?"

"Evil, sarcastic, bleached blonde?" Hermione grinned as everyone else cottoned on to where she was going at the exact same moment. "Maybe a certain Slytherin?"

"He doesn't dye his hair," Harry answered without thinking, then thought. "Hey! That's just…just…WRONG."

"Harry fancies Malfoy," Seamus teased.

"Don't."

"Do too. Sexy, evil and blonde. If that's your type then…nuff said," Hermione smirked.

"So you think he's sexy?"

"Nice try Harry, but everyone does. Even you!"

"Ron, tell your girlfriend to stop being disgusting."

"Sorry mate, but you are rather…obsessed with the guy."

"He's evil…"

"…sexy and blonde," they chorused, and Harry threw his hands up in disgust.

Hermione took pity on him and decided to explain exactly where he stood at the moment.

"It's like this Harry, you're faced with a choice. Either you admit you find the prat attractive, or we launch a campaign where we force you to watch lots of teen movies and listen to stupid songs until you realise that they are, in fact, mirroring your life and you admit you lo…fancy him." As Harry began to object she added the final clause, "of course this campaign will also include the withholding of all Jonny Depp related items…including Pirates of the Caribbean."

If he hadn't been Harry Potter the noise he made would have been described as a whimper. Fortunately, however, he was Harry Potter and thus didn't just whimper; rather it was a noise of capitulation.

"Sure, fine, whatever," he grouched, going upstairs muttering about evil empowered women hijacking Jonny Depp.

"At least I've got good taste," he mused to Hermione as Draco wafted past the next morning in gorgeous perfection. "He really is hot."

And that was the end of that.

Meanwhile, back in the Slytherin common room Draco Malfoy was panicking, gracefully, yes, but panicking.

He was sitting in front of the television; watching and rewatching the video at the beginning of the film they had watched that night, trying to make "Britney crazy" mean anything other than what it so clearly did.

"Baby, I'm so into you 

_You got that Somthin, what can I do_

_Baby, you stood me around_

_The Earth is movin, but I can't feel the ground"_

'Maybe it's an ironic song, like I hate you so much it makes me dizzy.'

"_Every time you look at me_

_My heart is jumpin, it's easy to see_

_Lovin you means so much more_

_More than anything I ever felt before"_

'Maybe he hadn't heard that bit of the song. And your heart can jump with anger, right?'

"_You Drive me crazy_

_I just cant sleep_

_Im so excited, Im in to deep_

_Ohh...Crazy, But it feels alright_

_Baby, thinkin of you keeps me up all night"_

"Well I stay up thinking about him. When he makes me so angry I can't think of anyone else, so maybe…"

"Tell Me, Your so into me 

_That im the only one you will see_

_Tell me, im not in the blue_

_That i'm not wastin, my feelins on you"_

'And then that makes sense, because we both feel the same, hate.'

"_Lovin you means so much more_

_More than anything I ever felt before"_

'…lets ignore that bit, shall we.'

"_Crazy, I just can't sleep_

_I'm so excited, Im in to deep_

_Crazy, But it feels alright_

_Every Day and Every Night"_

"_You Drive Me Crazy (You drive me crazy baby)_

_Ohh...Crazy, But It Feels Alright_

_Baby Thinkin of you keeps me up all night_

_Baby Thinkin of you keeps me up all night"_

"Draco, as much as we love that you like this song, if you don't stop the constant repeating you will get hexed," Pansy stood in the doorway, several other half asleep Slytherins behind her.

"But what does it mean?" he asked distractedly.

"Boils on the bum, a body bind, depends on the mood."

"Huh…never mind," his distracted air confirmed her suspicion that something had disturbed his equilibrium and, knowing him as she did she knew it could only be one thing.

"What did Potter do now?" she asked in a voice which expressed all the tedium she felt at their constant explosions.

"Oh it was horrible," he gushed, giving into all the natural drama that lay within someone who could happily pretend to be injured for several months on a whim. "Truly terrible, I may be scarred for life."

"Yet you're strangely upbeat about it all."

"I do the best I can to put on a brave face…"

"…Draco. What happened?"

"I think…or rather there is the possibility…it seems that…or rather I should say that Potter is under the belief that he has a crush on me."

"Hum," sometimes, as all Slytherins knew from long experience, it was better just to let the boy keep talking until he stopped, looked around and finally deigned to ask for help out of the huge hole he found himself in.

"And obviously, naturally I can understand that there are many, maybe even numerous people out there rendered senseless by my all consuming gorgeousness but they have the good manners to admire from afar until _I_ decide to notice _them_." Notice meaning shag. "But this is _Potter_. Standards people! I mean, ew."

"So what did you tell him," Delilah asked when he finally stopped talking.

"Tell him? TELL HIM? Nothing, of course. I delicately extracted myself from a most unpleasant situation," meaning, they knew, he ran away, "and am preparing to call St. Mungo's, though I'm not sure for whom. Potter, obviously, is damaged in someway, but I too am sadly traumatised by the experience."

"So you didn't decide to seize the opportunity then?" Millicent looked disappointed.

"Seize? SEIZE! There will be no seizing of any kind between Potter and myself… and why would I want to seize anything anyway?"

After running through several inappropriate answers which risked Draco self combusting Pansy settled on a relatively harmless one. "You could have, should have, told him you like him back."

"Like him back? LIKE HIM BACK?" really this was getting quite repetitive, "of course I don't like him back. I don't feel anything for him, excepting a seething resentment…I mean dislike." Pause, then, "anyway, he might have meant something else."

Finally, the root of the problem, Draco's unexpected, and really rather endearing insecurity.

"What did he say?"

"He said I drove him crazy," the girls shook their heads sadly, it was not the confession of love they had hoped for. "Then I asked what sort of crazy," he winced at the stupidness of himself.

"And," they were on tenterhooks now.

"He said 'Britney crazy.'

"He loves you," they announced as one, the constant repeating of the video suddenly making sense.

"And I hate him," Draco suddenly remembered that fact.

"No you don't."

"Do too, look at the cruel way I earned him a fifty point loss and detention in our first year."

"Detention with you, in the woods, all romantic like."

"And the way I tormented him about that singing Valentine."

"Which you sent."

"As a way of embarrassing him."

"So you say."

"And in third year I sabotaged his Quidditch match."

"So you could watch him play all up close."

"I HATE him," Draco gave up and flounced off to bed.

The next morning it was a very angry Draco who stormed into the common room.

"Right, who put a spell on me?"

The general ignorance and confusion that met the rather bizarre greeting quickly convinced him that no one had.

"Well, you've been…subliminally polluting me," he grouched.

"What's up Draco," Pansy coaxed.

"You've been…infecting me. I had this…SICK…WRONG dream about…ye Gods!…Potter. And it wasn't like all the others either," he continued only to be interrupted.

"You've dreamt about him _before_ then?"

"Well yeah, you know, fighting, wrestling…talking," he held his head in his hands, "I fancy him don't I?"

"Yes," they chorused.

"Which would explain last nights dream, with the kissing and the sex?"

"Yes," slightly less enthusiastic as the audience were picturing it and either grimacing or grinning.

"Oh well," he shrugged and went to breakfast.

Sitting there he looked across the hall to a rather frazzled looking Potter who, in spite of the bad clothes and appalling hair really did have nice eyes and an amazing body. And a smile that made him just want to…well, do things he probably shouldn't.

"I guess its not the _end_ of the world if I fancy him," he began tentatively, causing the entire table to perk up.

"So what are you going to _do_," Millicent asked eagerly.

"What do you mean?"

"To make him yours, silly," Delilah scolded him.

"Why on _earth_ would I want to do anything?" he looked confused.

"Because you fancy him…"

"…and you're not the only one," the girls confirmed.

"But what…why? He's messy and ill-mannered and unkempt," Draco was truly confused now.

"But he's also nice and friendly, he's sweet to everyone and probably too nice to turn them down."

"Like who?"

"Justin and Ernie in Hufflepuff, Joseph in Ravenclaw, probably Finnegan in his own house, plus most of the girls in the school," Blaise reeled them off without thinking, "and me of course."

"Back off," Draco growled, then looked surprised at himself. "I mean, I'd really rather you didn't, if you don't mind."

"I'll give you a week," Blaise's voice was totally sincere and Draco suddenly realised that he cared rather more than he should.

"Pansy, Millie, everyone, I think I might need some help."

With that he exited the hall with all his normal poise intact and leaving no one any the wiser to the multitude of revelations he had had thrust upon him in the last twenty-four hours.

Once he had gone Blaise smirked at the others, "knew that'd get him going," he crowed, before nodding across the room to Seamus Finnegan, who grinned back before engaging Hermione in conversation.

Early the next morning, rather too early for some people, Draco was being dressed up by over enthusiastic Slytherin girls who swore that this was the way to get Harry to notice him. And he had become Harry to them now, as if they were trying to get Draco to use his given name by using it themselves – which, of course, they were, he just didn't realise it.

"This is a ridiculous outfit," he twisted to look in the mirror as five girls worked on his clothes, hair and, dear God, his fingernails.

"It is perfect," Edith assured him, looking up from painting his fingernails with black polish, "now keep still."

"And shouldn't I be wearing leather trousers, not jeans? Just going by the rest of me, I mean."

"No one _really_ wears leather trousers," Millie shook her head sadly, he really was a lost cause. "There, finished."

He looked in the mirror, studying his reflection carefully. They had hardly touched his hair, they knew that much at least. It wasn't so bad an outfit, he supposed, and he did look good.

Setting himself in full Malfoy mode he sauntered into the Great Hall.

Silence.

Jaws dropped.

Harry Potter may have whimpered as his eyes met Draco's and the blonde smirked.

He felt his brain melt slightly as he took in Draco's outfit, the tight black jeans, the untucked red shirt, the bulky boots and the long, black leather coat.

Sexy, evil and blonde.

"Mr Malfoy," the exclamation came from more than one teacher, "what on earth are you doing, wearing, thinking! This is a school day, you should wear correct uniform."

"Sorry," he drawled, not remotely sorry, "I'll go and change."

And he left.

"Was he wearing nail varnish," Harry stammered, still gaping at the spot Draco had occupied moments before.

"Yup."

"Oh, that's nice for him," he was still impressed that he could form a sentence, lack of comprehension not withstanding, and subsequently failed to notice that he spent the rest of breakfast staring dazedly at the same spot, only moving when instructed to do so by Hermione.

Draco, who had gotten changed with remarkable speed – he was _very_ used to getting dressed (and leaving) quickly – had watched this with no small feeling of smugness, tinged with a nagging disappointment that Potter hadn't jumped him there and then. He had, after all, been led to believe that that would be the reaction to the odd outfit.

Two hours later, Harry Potter had recovered his self-possession and was suitably in control to comprehend that the likelihood of Draco waking up the morning after the morning after That blunder and deciding to put on that particular outfit was so slim as to be totally irrelevant.

Thus he could conclude one of two things. Either Draco was wearing it to get a rise out of him, or he was wearing it…to get a rise out of him. And if it was the latter, then there was a traitor in his own camp.

Dean, he guessed, had fed the Slytherin's with enough information to ensure that Harry Potter would be a drooling wreck the moment Draco Malfoy entered the Great Hall.

He'd love to be all Gryffindor and declare that two could play at that game, but he couldn't. Instead he did something far more productive.

Seamus.

No, not like that (frown at people in general for being so disgusting).

"Seamus help me," he had cornered his Irish housemate in their bedroom and wasn't letting him leave, thus pretty much guaranteeing that Seamus would help him. And who said Gryffindors couldn't plan? "Malfoy might actually fancy me."

"The big problem being…?" Harry was dense, but surely he hadn't forgotten that he _wanted_ Malfoy to like him, had he?

"Well…what do I _do_? I hadn't exactly planned for this situation EVER occurring thus it finds me some what unprepared."

"Oh dear," as much as he loved him, sometimes Harry really was a bit thick, Seamus mused, throwing an arm around the other boys shoulder and leading him downstairs. "You do the only thing any self respecting boy can do…call in girls."

Harry just looked at him, the confused, innocent look which was surely the thing that had managed to disconcert the Dark Lord into screwing up so many times that even a baby could have defeated him (again).

"Hermione, Lavender, Parvati," Seamus called across the common room, "Harry needs some help."

Harry ignored the 'what's new' from more than one quarter of the common room, deciding that negative thoughts would only hinder his current endeavour.

"Harry thinks Malfoy has shown that he likes him back," the expression he shot the girls would have given the game away had Harry been more observant that your average Hufflepuff. "As such, he needs to make the next move. What should he do?"

"New clothes, new hair, lots of flirting" Lavender reeled off, the matter already having been decided last night.

"Hey what's wrong with-"

"Everything," they cut him off. "Malfoy has standards, after all, and you need to keep his attention before someone else moves in on him."

"Like who," he was worried and offended all in one shot, after all, as far as he knew he'd been on Malfoy's radar for less than 24 hours and even Draco Malfoy's attention span was longer than that…wasn't it?

"Justin and Ernie in Hufflepuff, Joseph in Ravenclaw, probably Zabini in his own house, plus most of the girls in the school," Seamus reeled them off without thinking, "and me of course."

"Back off," Harry growled, suddenly every inch the Boy Who Lived, and, also, surprisingly like an overprotective Veela.

"Kidding Harry, you know I love only you," he teased, Harry getting redder by the second.

"Fine, dress me up, tell me what to do," he grouched, competitive enough to give it a shot, the whole having fancied him for the last two years issue being an additional incentive.

It was a cunning plan, but then again it was always going to be, considering whose plan it was.

Wednesday morning, two days after Draco's drool-some appearance at breakfast a brand new Harry Potter emerged.

He was wearing not-too-tight black jeans and a possibly-too-tight green t-shirt, black denim jacket and contact lenses.

For the entire day.

How, you may ask, but it was simple: Wednesday was a non-uniform day (or rather a you don't _have_ to wear school robes if you _really_ don't want to day) because Wednesday afternoons, in the grand tradition of muggle universities everywhere, were dedicated to sports.

Draco elegantly choked on his morning coffee when the Boy Who Lived entered the Hall in all his glory, muggle clothes still a decided rarity and these muggle clothes being positively indecent. At least, he mused, I had the decency to wear that long coat, virtually a robe if you think about it. He may as well be naked. Mmm, naked Harry…yum. And he was gone.

It may have been a cunning plan, but in the grand tradition of cunning plans there was a flaw, and this flaw's name was Harry Potter. Sure, he looked great in the clothes, but he was also clearly uncomfortable with the looks the outfit was getting, as well as the outfit itself.

And sure, the contacts looked great, but the glasses had been an outlet for a lot of nervous energy, which was now channelled into driving everyone else nuts.

And the flirt with Draco plan was brilliant in theory, but the hair and clothes and contacts didn't give him the necessary confidence boost, and as such the rest of Gryffindor and Slytherin were listening and cringing at Harry's garbled and confused sentences in the conveniently teacher-less potions lesson.

"So, Malfoy, Draco, Malfoy," he stammered, "how you doin'?"

Draco looked confused, Hermione let out a small sob, head hitting the desk.

"So, you come here often," he tried again.

Draco began to back away, not before shooting him a 'well duh' look. Seamus and Blaise had joined Hermione now, heads down on their desks both to hide their despair and their chuckles.

"I was thinking, maybe I could get you a drink sometime…_buy_, buy you a drink," Harry corrected realising that Draco was staring horror stuck at the beaker he had picked up and was now playing with distractedly.

Just as his friends were contemplating some much needed intervention Draco decide to play the role of hero.

"Just to clarify Potter, you are _trying_ to flirt with me?"

Harry nodded mutely, finally realising that sometimes silence was golden.

"Because while I appreciate subtle as much as the next person, sometimes obvious is far better. You know, letting an angry fight turn into something much nicer, maybe accidentally bumping into me in a deserted corridor…" Draco, Harry saw, was quite good at this seduction thing, "…kissing me in the middle of class while Snape is mysteriously elsewhere."

'Did he just? He did.'

Draco waited, and waited, and, at the point where he was prepared to take matters even more into his own hands, he found them occupied with Harry Potter.

More to ensure he wouldn't try speaking again that through any more rational impulse Harry had finally stepped forward and kissed Draco Malfoy firmly on the lips.

The day Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy first kissed was one that would live forever in Hogwart's memory, a story that was oft told at reunions and to new first years as they surveyed their fearsome potions master.

Harry Potter, hero of the wizarding world, was pushed up against a cold stone wall, one hand clutching his one time rival's arm, the other wrapped firmly in his hair, groaning shamelessly.

Draco Malfoy was pushing said hero against said wall, realising that he didn't mind being the second best kisser in the school as long as the best kisser kept kissing him.

Hermione Granger, future Minister of Magic and mother of three was grinning like an idiot and exchanging smug looks with Seamus Finnegan, looking nothing like the calm, composed head girl she was.

Pansy Parkinson, future editor of the _Daily Prophet_, was making 'told you so' signs behind her best friend's back and planning her first every magazine article – an article that would cost her a lot of grovelling and leave her immensely grateful for the fact that Harry could get Draco to forgive her anything.

Seamus Finnegan and Blaise Zabini, future married couple, were looking very pleased with themselves as nearly a year of toil and plotting came to fruition and they ensured that no gay wizarding couple would ever have to hide who they were – after all, with the Boy Who Lived championing gay rights, who would argue?

Ron Weasley, faithful best friend and future captain of England's World Cup winning Quidditch team grimaced and resigned himself to a lifetime of Draco Malfoy because as little as he liked it, he was very aware than no one else would suit Harry as well.

But, dear reader, all of this paints an interesting portrait of our students, but does not appear overly notable. What was notable, however, was the reaction of one man, a fearsome and imposing man who surely would not stand for any such frivolity in his classroom.

Severus Snape, future First Husband and Headmaster of Hogwarts, walked into his potions classroom in time to see Draco move one hand from the wall next to Harry Potter's head…

"Mr Malfoy, if that hand goes anywhere near Potter's arse you'll be in detention until you are fifty!"

As order was restored to the classroom, Hermione would forever maintain that he added a further comment, muttering quietly to himself "and about time too."

**The End**

So, what did you think?

Just to clarify a few points in advance…

RON and HERMIONE had an amicable parting that in no way damaged their friendship and that Harry only noticed several weeks after the fact.

HERMIONE perused SEVERUS SNAPE with an admirable determination until he eventually capitulated and they lived happily ever after. No, really.

That day was the first, last and only time that HARRY was ever seen in stylish and sexy clothes, and contact lens. In public, at any rate.

And yes, the whole thing was orchestrated by BLAISE and SEAMUS, with no little help from HERMIONE.


End file.
